


La Novicia Rebelde

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Religious, Alternate Universe - The Sound of Music Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Pre-Cuban Revolution, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: “Confidence, Carisi,” Sonny murmured to himself, squaring his shoulders and straightening up.He had made it this far, to the monastery and further away from Staten Island than he’d dared to hope growing up.After all that, what was a trip out to an estate on the outskirts of Havana to tutor some kids?





	La Novicia Rebelde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/gifts).



> I've been battling a spring cold this weekend, and in my vulnerable and hopped-up-on-cold-medicine state, having just watched the Sound of Music, ships_to_sail took advantage of me by convincing me to write this.
> 
> Or something like that ;)
> 
> This is a one-shot at the moment and it's doubtful I'd write more in this 'verse, I just couldn't get the idea of Captain von Trapp!Rafael and Maria!Sonny out of my head.
> 
> Title is the Spanish title the Sound of Music was released under in many Spanish-speaking countries. Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and or kudos!

The bell from the tower at the Monasterio de San Francisco de Asis tolled five chimes in the early morning light, and Sonny Carisi couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder as the abbey doors closed behind him, nerves pooling low in his stomach. The abbey had in some ways been the only home he’d ever felt like he’d had, and at least he’d lasted longer here than he had at the previous several Orders he’d served first as a postulant and now as a novice.

Sonny — and wasn’t that a breath of fresh air, to be able to get away from the brothers who referred to him as Brother Dominick despite his insistence that they call him Sonny, especially since he hadn’t yet taken his vows — had only been in Cuba for a few months, coming over in the fall of 1952, but he still couldn’t get used to the fact that when the sun fully rose it would be 80 degrees in the middle of February.

At least it made for a pleasant change of pace from some of the Orders he’d been with.

What wasn’t a change of pace was leaving, once again, even if this time it wasn’t for good. 

Sonny had never quite felt like he fit anywhere: too young to fight the Krauts or Japs (he had been only 17 on V-J Day, had been disappointed listening to the radio proclamation until his mother scolded him for being disappointed that he hadn’t died like so many other boys from his neighborhood on Staten Island), too poor for college, too awkward to settle down and get married like any of sisters, too…

Well, too everything, it seemed.

He was beginning to wonder if he’d belong anywhere, his heart heavy as he shouldered his bag and turned away from the abbey.

It was 1953, he was in Cuba, months away from taking his vows, and still he had no idea where he belonged. Except, apparently, as the new tutor for the Barba children on an estate outside of Havana.

“It will be good for you,” the abbot had insisted in heavily-accented English, his hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Before you make your vows, before you decide that this is the life for you, you must be sure that this is what you want.”

“But Padre Abad, I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a servant of the Church,” Sonny had similarly insisted, guilt twisting inside of him for whatever he had done to make the abbot want to to send him away.

“And you still shall serve the Church,” the abbot told him gently. “But this will be a good thing for you, Dominick. Don Barba wishes for his children to be taught English, and naturally there would be none from our Order better suited than you. At the same time, you can use this to be sure of your place here. And if, when you return, you still wish to take your vows, I promise I will receive them.”

So Sonny had no real choice but to agree.

Now, as he walked away from the abbey, nervous butterflies in his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel like this was a huge mistake. He knew nothing about teaching kids, other than a few times he’d helped his ma out looking after some of the neighborhood kids, and his Spanish still wasn’t great, and—

“Confidence, Carisi,” he murmured to himself, squaring his shoulders and straightening up. 

He had made it this far, to the monastery and further away from Staten Island than he’d dared to hope growing up.

After all that, what was a trip out to an estate on the outskirts of Havana to tutor some kids?

So he took a deep breath, adjusted his grip on his bag, and walked away from the closest thing he’d ever had to a home.

* * *

 

The estate was as breathtaking and sprawling as Sonny had imagined, and he found himself staring around in awe even as he made his way to massive doorway. He stared up at it and swallowed, hard, before tentatively raising a hand and knocking on the door.

He took a step back, glancing down at the dusty traveling clothes he wore and wishing for the first time since arriving in Cuba that he had nicer clothes.

Not that he had ever had nice clothes to begin with, really, but the vow of poverty had taken care of what little possessions he’d had.

The door creaked open and Sonny quickly snapped to attention, forcing what he hoped was a winning smile onto his face. “Sí?” a man’s voice asked, and Sonny cleared his throat to respond when the man stepped forward and into the early morning light.

His mouth went dry at the sight of the man who answered the door. He was several years older than Sonny, much better-dressed, with dark hair and piercing green eyes.

He was also extremely handsome, enough to make Sonny’s palms sweat and stomach do backflips in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.

And in a way that had everything to do with why Sonny’s parents had all but forced him into a life of religion and chastity.

“Uh, hola, señor,” Sonny started awkwardly. “Uh, estoy aquí para, uh—”

“I speak English,” the man interrupted, something like amusement sparking in those green eyes, “and I think for both of our sakes, you should do the same.” 

Carisi flushed and nodded. “Great. Uh, I’m Dominick Carisi Jr., but, uh, you can call me Sonny. I’m from the, uh, the abbey. Here to teach the children English.” He hesitated. “Are you the…” He trailed off, not sure what the appropriate staff roles would be on an estate like this. “The butler?”

The man smiled slightly. “I’m Rafael,” he said, in a way that didn’t at all answer Sonny’s question. “Please come in, Sr. Carisi. Or should I call you Brother Carisi.”

He didn’t pitch it like a question but Sonny still shook his head. “No, uh, Sonny’s fine, really. I’m not a monk. Or, uh, not a monk yet, I guess.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow as he led him through the vaulted foyer, which was even fancier on the inside than on the outside. “I was under the impression the monastery was sending one of their Order.”

“I’m a novice,” Sonny assured him, stuffing his hands awkwardly in his pockets at the way Rafael seemed to be examining him. “I just haven’t taken my vows yet.”

“No?” Rafael asked, again seeming amused by that. “Why not?”

Sonny debated over making an excuse but he had a feeling he would be better off if he had an ally on the staff going into this, so he managed a small smile and shrugged. “Truth be told, I’ve had some difficulty following the vows of my brotherhood.”

Rafael’s smile widened. “Oh really? Which part?”

“The obedience part, mostly.”

Rafael barked a short laugh. “Something you and I have in common,” he mused, and Sonny blinked at him.

“I’d think that in your line of work, you’d be used to taking orders.”

“More used to giving than taking,” Rafael said, seemingly amused by whatever joke that Sonny clearly didn’t understand.

He led Sonny to a small sitting room just off of the main hall and gestured for Sonny to take a seat. Sonny perched on the edge of a chair, feeling more awkward than before, especially when Rafael didn’t sit but instead stayed standing, watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

Sonny cleared his throat and attempted to change the subject. “So, uh, seven kids, huh?” he said, hoping it was safe or at least neutral territory. “That must be a handful for Don Barba and his wife.”

Something darkened in Rafael’s expression. “Don Barba is unmarried,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “Doña Barba left him, and the children.”

Sonny winced. “That’s awful,” he said quietly. “What kind of mother would do that to her own kids?”

Rafael shook his head slowly. “A question I have asked myself for years,” he murmured. “But then again, Yelina always did have her eye on the biggest prize.”

Sonny didn’t know what to say for that, so he settled for saying, awkwardly, “Your English is really good, Rafael. I dunno why Don Barba wanted someone from the abbey to teach the kids when you could easily do it.”

Rafael’s expression turned cold. “I have other duties I must attend to. Besides which, I have little patience for…” He trailed off, looking sour. “Children.”

“Oh.” Sonny bit his lip before asking, “Have you, uh, known the kids here long?”

“All their lives.”

“Right,” Sonny said, nodding slowly, trying desperately to find something to say. “I guess kids, uh, aren’t for everyone.”

For some reason, a shadow crept across Rafael’s face at that, and for a moment he looked — well, to Sonny, he looked almost sad. “That they are not.”

“But, uh, at least the kids still have their dad, right?” Sonny said, aiming to bring the conversation back on to even ground.

He appeared to have misstepped, since Rafael’s expression again soured. “He is a busy man.”

“I mean, sure, but too busy for his own kids?”

Rafael looked at him carefully. “Are you close with your father, Sr. Carisi?”

Sonny weighed how best to answer that question, which was far more complicated than a simple yes or no. “Not as close as I would like,” he said cautiously.

Rafael nodded slowly, his expression distant. “My father beat me and my mother,” he said quietly. “I learned nothing about how to be a father from him, only how to drink and hit defenseless boys and women.” He broke off, shaking his head. “It is better to be too busy for children than to hit them.”

“Yeah, sure, but without a mother or a father—”

“You are not a father, señor,” Rafael interrupted, his expression tight. “Forgive me for thinking your opinion does not matter much here.”

“Maybe not,” Sonny shot back, and he stood, feeling riled, and as per usual, his mouth getting ahead of him, “but I don’t think your opinion matters too much either, since you’re also not a father.”

For a moment, Rafael just stared at him, something like fury in the lines of his face. Then, without warning, he smiled. Unlike his earlier smiles, warm and even a little amused, there was no warmth this time. Just a terrible sort of cold that made Sonny reflexively recoil. “I suppose in a way, you are correct,” Rafael said. “But then again, a broken clock is right even twice a day.”

Sonny swallowed, his nerves back with a vengeance, even if he wasn’t quite sure why. “I don’t—”

Rafael straightened, and even though he was a few inches shorter than Sonny, he couldn’t help but feel like Rafael towered over him. “My name is Rafael Barba, Sr. Carisi,” Rafael said, still smiling that same, terrible smile. “Welcome to my home.”

Sonny gaped at him, his mouth hanging open as he tried to come up with something to say. “I’d tell you to make yourself comfortable,” Rafael continued pleasantly, “but I do not imagine you will last long here.”

“Mr. Barba, I’m so sorry—” Sonny tried to choke out, his stomach somewhere around his knees, but Rafael didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“Save it for the monastery,” he said dismissively. 

“I—”

Rafael glared at him and Sonny broke off and fell silent, his cheeks burning. “I have business in Camaguey,” Rafael continued coldly. “I don’t know how long I will be gone. I look forward to seeing what progress you make with my children when I return.” He eyed Sonny before adding, “If you make it until then.”

“Mr. Barba, please—”

But Rafael had already turned away, stalking toward the door, and Sonny sat again, his knees feeling too weak to support himself. “Oh, and Sr. Carisi?” Sonny looked up sharply, eyes wide, and Rafael smirked at him from the doorway. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”


End file.
